Of course it had occurred to her. She wasn’t totally naive. But it wasn’t that Russ was unenthusiastic in bed. He was just diffident, almost cautious, as if he was scared he might break her. The first few times, it had made her feel absolutely cherished, as if she was as fragile as a dream.
But being a dream could get old pretty quick.
Damn it! Slipping into the deserted dressing room, Geena closed the door harder than she’d meant to, almost slamming it as the tears she’d been suppressing for the last two days coursed down her cheeks. Angrily, she yanked the mask off.
No, Russ wasn’t gay. She’d stake her life on it. His responses to her, however hesitant, however subdued, were absolutely real. She’d felt his chest tighten and his cock grow hard just from kissing her far too many times to doubt that.
And he loved her. He was in love with her. It showed all over him; in his smile, in his voice, in the way he lit up whenever he saw her. But was she in love with him?
That’s the real question, isn’t it, Gee? This isn’t about Russ at all. It’s about you. Sure, you care about him, sure he’s wonderful. But is it fair to marry a man who thinks you’re perfect, when you think he’s a bore in the sack?
Ouch.
Geena winced, but that tart inner voice didn’t care about her feelings. It cared about the truth. And the truth was...
The truth was she didn’t think it was fair to Russ at all.
He deserved better than that. He deserved a woman who loved everything about him. Including the way he made love. And she simply wasn’t that woman.
Oh God, she thought, wiping futilely at her tears. How could I have made such a complete mess of things?
She was unaware that she was moaning until she heard footsteps outside in the hall. Geena clapped a hand over her mouth, and then scrubbed hurriedly at her face with a towel. The last thing she wanted was to have to try and explain to Chell, or anyone else, what was wrong.
But it wasn’t Michelle. As the footsteps approached, she recognized Flynn’s deep, authoritative tones.
“...not fair not to tell her, Russ. What kind of love is that? If you care about the girl at all, you’ll tell her. Now.”
What the hell was he talking about? Holding her breath, Geena listened, unsure which shocked her more, the idea that sweet, straightforward Russ had a secret, or hearing Flynn plead her theoretical side of the argument.
Unless it was just another trick.
He’s a manipulative prick when he wants to be.
But why would Flynn want to be, anyway? She still wasn’t any closer to figuring that out. She pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear, but they’d moved out of range, sounding like they were heading back toward the kitchen.
Intrigued, she grabbed a sheer wraparound robe one of the girls had left on a chair and pulled it on over her g-string. She reached for the doorknob, paused, then picked up her discarded cat mask and slipped it back down over her face before sliding noiselessly out of the dressing room.
Her heels clicked lightly on the tiled floor, and she stopped to pull her stilettos off, carrying them in one hand as she padded softly down the darkened hall. Stopping outside the kitchen, she could hear Flynn’s voice again from within, but not his words.
Stretching on tiptoe, Geena peered through the circular windows set in the swinging double doors. The kitchen was nearly dark, lit only by the cold glow of the reach-in. She could just see Russ in the shadows, leaning back against a prep table, his broad frame half-obscured by the bakery racks near the doors. She couldn’t see Flynn at all. Maybe, if she was very careful...
Dropping to all fours, Geena nudged open one of the doors, praying it wouldn’t squeak and betray her. If it did, she fully intended to jump up and run.
It swung soundlessly on its hinges, and she crawled hurriedly through the narrow opening. Her heart seemed to be lodged in her throat, and in the shadowy darkness of the kitchen it sounded as loud as a bass drum. She paused, listening furtively, but the men apparently hadn’t noticed her entrance.
She rose and peered cautiously between the bakery racks. Russ’s back was to her, his arms crossed on his broad chest. Geena could see the tense, unhappy set of his wide shoulders. Flynn stood near the grill, the thin, cold light from the reach-in illuminating his chiseled profile. “So you’re really trying to tell me you can go the rest of your life—”
“Yes.”
Flynn gave a disgusted snort. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care if you do.” Russ’s familiar voice sounded almost foreign to Geena, his tone harsh and determined, but with a certain dull resignation in it too. “I love her. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”
There was a silence. Then Flynn said, “You once told me you couldn’t fall in love.”
“I was wrong.”
“And you’re wrong now, too. I know you, Russ. You can’t just—”
“I asked her once,” Russ interrupted, cutting Flynn off. “I asked her what her favorite fantasy was. Do you know what she said?” He raised his head, looking at Flynn. Even in the dimness, Geena could see his eyes glittering. With outrage? Or tears? “Doing it in the park.”
“In the daylight?”
Russ’s mouth curved in a bitter smile. “At night. I asked.”
He had, too. Geena remembered that. She remembered how she’d stared at him, pretending to be shocked that he’d even ask such a thing. But wasn’t that what he’d wanted her to say?
Suddenly, she wondered.
Flynn threw his head back in a sour laugh. His hair slid, black and heavy, between his fingers as he ran a hand through it. “God, Russ. And you really think this is going to work?”
He straightened abruptly and moved toward Russ, seeming to tower over him as he tilted his head, pinning Russ with those intense green eyes. “Believe it or not, Russ, I want you to be happy.”
Geena swallowed, remembering how that gaze had pierced her to her core, turning her knees to water and sending shockwaves through her cunt.
If that was me he was leaning over, she thought wildly, I’d be coming by now. Just from him trapping me there and staring down at me.
Russ merely glared at him. The air between them vibrated with tension.
“Are you really going to tell me,” Flynn murmured, his voice a low rumble, deep in his throat, “that you can be happy living without this forever?” And with that, he raised his hands to Russ’s face, grabbed his jaw, and pulled him into a hard, searing kiss.
Geena’s heart seemed to shatter as irreparably as the vase she’d dropped, cracking into a thousand sharp fragments even as Flynn’s mouth worked over Russ’s, ravaging it fiercely. She stared, feeling her world tumble into chaos.
Russ was gay. Of course. It explained everything.
How could she have been so blind?
For a moment, Russ stood rigidly under Flynn’s passionate assault. Then some wall inside him appeared to crumble, and with a groan he slid his hands into Flynn’s thick ebony hair, clenching it between his fingers as he kissed Flynn back.
Their bodies arched against each other, battling for supremacy as their mouths raked together. Geena watched, tears pouring down her face even as a white-hot lust flared in her groin. There was nothing tender, nothing hesitant about this. Russ kissed Flynn with a ruthlessness that was almost violent, jabbing his tongue into Flynn’s mouth with a hunger he’d never shown her.
She could see Russ’s biceps flexing as he grabbed Flynn around the waist, dragging Flynn against him in an embrace that was furious in its intensity. They were almost of a height, the two of them. Flynn was a smidge taller, but Russ’s shoulders were broader, his build heavier. Locked together like gladiators, they strained against each other, hands grabbing hair, stroking backs, caressing smooth, hard muscle, hips grinding together as their tongues lashed and danced in each other’s mouths.
Geena’s breath grew shallow as she watched, and her g-string, she realized, was as wet as her cheeks. Jesus! It wa
s like watching two thunderstorms collide. If thunderstorms could fuck, that was. The air was electric with lust, almost explosive in its intensity.
I just think it’d be interesting. See how the other half lives.
Chell’s words rang in her mind, and Geena smiled bitterly even through her tears. “Interesting” didn’t begin to describe it. The two men clung to each other, panting. She could hear their groans, the small, wet sounds of their lips as they kissed with a hunger that mesmerized her. She felt like she was being torn in two, slowly, excruciatingly, but she couldn’t stop watching, couldn’t tear her eyes away.
Then Russ shoved Flynn back roughly, his chest heaving as he spat out one harsh, icy word. “Yes.”
Geena clapped her hands over her mouth to trap the sob that tried to burst out.
God, he really did love her. He loved her enough to be willing to give up the desire that even now shook his broad, sturdy frame. The realization rocked her, both exhilarating and humbling.
How could he possibly love her so much? And why did things have to be so fucking complicated? How could he be happy with her, content with her in the face of that naked desire?
“You can live without it.” The disbelief in Flynn’s voice was obvious, and Geena shared it. Even if he could, she couldn’t. She wanted a man who would look at her like that, kiss her like that, so hard, so demandingly.
“Yes.”
“For the rest of your life.” Flynn’s low, almost menacing tone sent icy shivers up Geena’s spine.
“If I have to.”
“Even if I do this?”
Capturing Russ’s gaze with those piercing green eyes, Flynn sank to his knees. He reached for Russ’s belt buckle, and Russ dropped his head back with an agonized moan. Geena, unable to move, clung to the bakery rack as Flynn unzipped Russ’s pants, revealing his beautiful, thick, rock-hard erection. The light from the reach-in gleamed over the smooth, engorged curve of its tip.
Russ’s voice was a ragged whisper as he replied, “Yes.”
“And this?”
Leaning forward, Flynn ran his long, agile tongue over Russ’s swollen cockhead.
Russ’s hips jerked, and he hissed between his teeth. “Yes.”
“And this.” With that, Flynn plunged his mouth down around Russ’s shaft.
Panting, Geena watched as he worked his mouth over the throbbing skin, his tongue darting out to circle the head as he drew back. Then he thrust his head forward again, taking Russ’s cock in almost to the hilt.
Russ groaned, and clamped his hands in Flynn’s hair. “You bastard,” he whispered. “Oh, you fucking bastard.”
Fiercely, punishingly, he thrust his hips forward, driving his cock deep into Flynn’s mouth. Flynn sucked at it greedily, egging him on, and Russ slammed in again, harder. Geena could see his jaw clenching, his face flushed with arousal as Flynn’s strong, agile fingers played over his swollen balls, stroking them, teasing them.
Crash!
Geena sprang back, horrified, as the rack she’d been clinging to toppled to the floor. She whirled, but Flynn had already sprung to his feet, and before she could run, he’d seized her arm, spinning her around to face him.
Her sheer robe fell open, revealing her breasts. Flynn glanced down at them, his green eyes widening appreciatively at the sight of her taut, erect nipples.
“Well, hello, kitty-cat. I remember you. Come to join the fun?”
Behind him, Russ loomed against the darkness, his face flushed with heat. Geena’s gaze dropped to his erection jutting from his open jeans, still slick with Flynn’s spit. Looking at it, she couldn’t help herself—she licked her lips.
Flynn smiled. Russ’s eyes glittered avidly. Geena felt her breath hitch in her throat. Then Flynn reached up and slid off her mask. His eyes narrowed in surprise. And anger.
“You.”
Chapter Five
Russ’s eyes widened, and the color drained from his face. Hoarsely, he whispered, “Geena. Oh, Jesus.”
Geena stared at him, panting, every nerve in her body jangling with alarm. She opened her mouth, feeling her throat painfully dry, but no sound came out. God, what must he think of her? What would he say when it finally sank in that it had been her gyrating before Flynn, her fingers eagerly playing with her nipples?
Russ looked away, and Geena felt her stomach sink down into her feet. She watched him zip his pants over his fading erection, his belt buckle dangling as he did. Noticing the direction of her glance, Russ flushed a deep crimson.
“Oh Christ, Geena, I’m sorry. I never meant for you to...Ah, shit.”
His embarrassment gave her back a shred of courage. If her behavior hadn’t been exactly appropriate, his sure as hell hadn’t been, either. And he looked so lost, so mortified, standing there with his shoulders hunched as if expecting a blow. It wasn’t his fault, after all. Gently, she said, “You could have told me you were gay, Russ.”
Surprise flickered in his hazel eyes, and Flynn let out a bark of laughter. “Gay? Is that what you think?”
“But isn’t he?” Confused, Geena looked from Flynn to Russ who opened his mouth, but said nothing.
Flynn shot him a disgusted glance. “What the fuck are you looking so guilty for, Russ? Don’t you get it? She was spying on you. Sneaking around behind your back, dressing up as a stripper...”
Geena tugged feebly against Flynn’s hard grip. “Let me go!”
“Oh, no, I don’t think so, Geena. There are penalties for spying.”
At the note of menace in his words, a thrill of arousal pulsed through her body, setting her traitorous nerves to tingling. Blood rushed to her crotch, thickening the furred outer lips, and she could feel her g-string tugging against her sodden folds.
“You heard her, Flynn. Let her go. Now.” Russ strode forward, bristling, and Geena’s heart thumped in her chest. God, how could he love her so much? He was her champion, her white knight, rushing to save her from Flynn’s evil clutches—only, if she were honest with herself, she’d admit that some treacherous part of her didn’t want to be rescued.
Flynn chuckled. “I believe you underestimate your sweet, innocent Geena, Russ. Or don’t you remember your little vanilla fiancée, shoving her tits in my face not twenty minutes ago?” He smiled down at Geena, his eyes gleaming with feral amusement. “Believe me, I do.”
“Flynn,” Russ growled warningly.
Flynn spun her around roughly, dragging her against him so that she was facing Russ, her back against Flynn’s iron-hard abs. He held her with her arm twisted up behind her, her breasts heaving as she writhed in his grip.
“Flynn, stop it!” Russ’s face was black with fury.
With his free hand, Flynn seized Geena’s chin and forced her head up. “Look at her! Look at her blush! Look at the way she’s panting, Russ, and the way she can’t meet your eyes. Can she?”
No, she couldn’t. Her whole body was trembling. Not with fear, or not just with fear, but with a tremulous anticipation that coiled like a live wire in her belly. God, the way he’d grabbed her, the way he was holding her now...
She was helpless before him. And utterly aroused.
What would Russ think of her?
“Look at her, Russ.” Flynn bent close and spoke, hot and low, in her ear. “She can hardly wait to be punished.”
At his words, Geena let out a moan. Desire, so fierce it made her feel faint, swept through her, flooding her veins, hardening her nipples. She whimpered in combined longing and humiliation as Flynn grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. From beneath her lowered lashes she saw Russ staring at the dark, erect tips of her breasts.
Playfully, Flynn reached around and pinched one aching nub, hard. Geena moaned again. She couldn’t help it.
Flynn chuckled again. “I’m afraid, Russ, your Geena’s been a very bad girl.”
Flushing in mortification, Geena bit her lip and forced herself to look at Russ. The shock in his eyes made her wince with shame.
She dropped her ga
ze, whispering, “Oh, Russ, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Flynn answered her, blocking out any reply Russ might have made. “What are you sorry for?” His voice was low, insinuating, laced with amusement. “Russ isn’t gay, my pretty little Geena. He just likes it kinky. Just like you.”
Geena’s eyes flew wide as her head jerked back up. She stared at Russ, seeing the darkness in his eyes anew. It wasn’t shock. It wasn’t disgust. It was hunger. And, looking down, Geena realized his erection was back. Not only back—it was straining at his pants.
With a quick, practiced motion, Flynn yanked her back against his hard frame. She could feel his rigid shaft straining against her ass as he pinched her nipples mercilessly, making her writhe and gasp.
“Flynn, stop.” Russ’s words were hoarse with desperation—and desire. Hearing it, Geena found she couldn’t breathe at all for a moment, and the room around her seemed to whirl as her body went limp with agonized need.
“Do you want me to stop, Geena?” Flynn whispered in her ear. “Just say the word, and I’ll let you go.”
She swallowed convulsively, her eyes fixed on Russ’s.
The silence spun out. Then Flynn’s breath stirred her hair as he murmured over her shoulder, triumphant amusement coloring his voice, “It appears, Russ, that I’ve got the perfect wedding gift for you.”
She could feel him moving behind her, but he held her firmly and she couldn’t turn to see what he was doing. Her gaze was still locked on Russ’s, and he stared back at her, as frozen as she. So many assumptions both of them had made! And they could so easily have gone their entire lives, never knowing the truth.
Geena wondered fleetingly what would have happened if she hadn’t overheard Flynn, hadn’t snuck into the kitchen. Then Flynn yanked the silk robe off her, and before she could react, she felt something tighten around her wrists—and realized she was about to find out what was going to happen because she had.
There are penalties for spying.
“Don’t move,” Flynn whispered.
He let her go, and she stood still as a post as he walked away. He returned with her discarded shoes and, lifting her feet one at a time, slid the four-inch stilettos back on her feet. Then he circled her, looking her up and down.
The Mighty Flynn (Siren Publishing Menage & More) Page 4
